But the die was cast—he had gained nothing by his visit or by pleading for Norman. He was very sad, for he felt that he was standing in the way of his brother’s interest and happiness and even his moral welfare. On the other hand, if Sadie Rochester loved him, as he was now firmly convinced, it was hard for her to know that her affection could never be returned; but he felt that he could do nothing more; he could only leave it to a higher power to work out and regulate. Since Dr. Winthrop could at present do nothing more than he had already done to discover Sister Angela, and as his friends were to leave for Italy in a few days, he thought it best to remain at the chateau and assist them in their arrangements for their departure. So, a little while after Miss Rochester’s flight from his presence, he sought his mother. She greeted him with undisguised delight. “At last, my dear boy,” she exclaimed as she kissed him—“at last I have gained the one wish of my heart! And now I believe that your future will be all that I could desire.” Dr. Winthrop’s lips curled in a bitter smile. If his future, with his sad and blighted heart and broken hopes, was all that she could desire for him, how shallow was her nature—how little of real mother love she must have for him! * * * * * When Miss Rochester fled in such a passion from Dr. Winthrop’s presence, she did not slacken her pace until she reached her mother’s parlor, where she sank upon a chair, and gave way to a paroxysm of mingled grief, anger, and mortification, which, however, was not unmixed with something of almost hysterical exultation. “What is the matter with you?” her mother demanded, as she regarded her, in bewildered surprise, for it was a rare occurrence for her proud-spirited, self-reliant daughter to break down like this. The only reply to this question was a burst of nervous and immoderate laughter, and this sudden change from tears to mirth really alarmed Mrs. Rochester. “Gracious, Sadie! I honestly believe you have hysterics. I never saw you in such a state before. Here, take my vinaigrette, and try to calm yourself.” Miss Rochester obediently inhaled several breaths of the aromatic preparation her mother extended to her, and gradually regained composure. “Well, mamma,” she at length remarked, “I’ve just had a hand-to-hand battle with my future husband.” “Sarah!” exclaimed the elder woman, aghast. “Oh, but I have come off victor in the encounter,” said Miss Rochester, with a smile of triumph. “I’ve simply given him a taste of my claws, and I do not imagine he will care to have the experience repeated very often. Do not fear, mamma,” she continued, as she saw the look of anxiety on her mother’s brow; “it is a settled thing that I am to be Mrs. Truman Winthrop. I knew that I should win.” “Do not be too sure; for you would never dare to take any decided step until you receive those papers from New York,” was the troubled reply.